


A Journal Entry from Salem_Wolf_999

by littleblackbow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/pseuds/littleblackbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy inherits his father's lycanthropy. When he goes to Salem for University, he looks for a potions master who is willing to brew Wolfsbane for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Journal Entry from Salem_Wolf_999

Title: A Journal Entry From Salem_Wolf_999  
Author: littleblackbow  
Characters: Teddy Lupin/Severus Snape  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings:  
Themes/kinks chosen: For chiralove, Prompts: Caroling, Courtship  
Word Count: around 4500  
Summary: Teddy's writing in his journal, recalling events that changed his life.  
Author's notes: I was at a complete loss as to how to do this until just a few days ago. I have art started to go with it, and I promise, promise promise that I will add it in as soon as I scan. :D Thank you so much to venturous and faynia for the emergency betas!! I totally owe you two bigtime!

 

Theme is Courtship  
Item or prompt is Caroling

 

I didn't tell dad about him. I guess I probably should have, now that I'm thinking back on everything that happened. But the truth is that I didn't have a reason to until just a week ago, 'cause, well... that's just not something you can bring up to your parents, y'know?

Not that things ever got out of hand, mind you. Very much in hand, if you get my drift. But anyway, the point is that I didn't tell him, and when I mentioned dad's proposed visit to my lover (God, I'm actually telling someone he's my lover? That's just... wow), he got this funny look on his face like he'd just seen a ghost.

He didn't say anything. Well, I mean, he can't technically say anything outright in a normal way, but you know how some people can just make you know what they want to say, even if their voice doesn't work? Yeah, he's one of those guys. Instead, his hands started shaking and he backed away from me.

I wonder if dad will have the same reaction.

Somehow, I think he might take it better than Mr. Princeton. He's pretty cool like that.

I met Steven two years ago when I came to Salem for Uni. Actually, that was one of the first things I did. Checked into the dorms, and then sought out a Potions Master who could brew for me and yet be discreet enough that I didn't have to hide what I am. The Dean, of course, knew. She was the one who sent me to Mr. Princeton in the first place.

And let me tell you, our first meeting did not go well. I showed up on his doorstep, and the way he looked at me was as if I was some kind of cockroach invading his kitchen. Before I could get a word out, he sniffed at me and then closed his door.

It was a good thing Dean Jameson had warned me about his disposition.

"Um, I'm here 'cause I'd like you to make a potion for me," I shouted through the door. When he opened it again, he thrust a piece of paper at me. I smile now, thinking about my reaction when I first read through it.

No, wait, I have to let you lot know what was on it first.

It was a list of rules.

1) I do not brew any poisons, love potions, unspeakables, or polyjuice.

2) I do not brew any remedial potions, or potions that might be completed by any fourth or fifth year student. If you cannot brew them yourself, you have no right using them.

3) This is not an apothecary shop. I do not provide potions ingredients, nor do I make a habit of searching for rare ingredients, myself. If I do not have the necessary ingredients in my larder, you must provide them, yourself.

The list went on. Actually, there were a few very common-sensical things in there about live ingredients and rituals, but for the most part, it read like the rules at Hogwarts.

Okay, I'll get back to that later.

At any rate, there was nothing on the list that would specifically eliminate Wolfsbane from his brewing list, so when he slammed the door in my face the second time (after he shoved those rules in my hand), I knocked again.

He didn't open, the stubborn git, so instead, I just shouted.

"I NEED YOU TO BREW ME SOME WOLFSBANE!"

Oh, you should have seen the look on his face when he opened the door again.

Don't get me wrong. I was not invited in. Instead, he just stood there and stared at me for a good five minutes.

And the funny thing was, I just let him. You know? It was like here was this old guy checking me out, and I was okay with it. It felt kind of good, to be perfectly honest.

So, when he was done looking me over, one eyebrow raised (God, that was sexy - just sayin'), amd he held up two fingers and mouthed out "two days." He then shut the door in my face.

Weird,right? Not what anyone would have expected. He didn't even let me know how much he would charge for those kinds of potions. Didn't ask about if it was for me or not. I mean, being only half werewolf, I would only take a half dose of the wolfsbane when he finished it.

Getting ahead of myself here.

So, I went back to school, registered for my classes, moved into a private room in the dorm. The Dean was nice enough to make special arrangements for me. Seems like in America, there's a different code when it comes to werewolf rights, and there aren't as many restrictions.

Two days later, I went back to Mr. Princeton to pick up my potion. As cordial as ever, when he saw who was at his door, he shut it in my face again, and then a few moments later, he came out with a small vial of what would turn out to be the finest wolfsbane potion I'd ever taken.

And it was only half a dose. Weird that he'd know that, isn't it?

August, September, and October all went the same way. I'd visit him once a month when it was getting close to the full moon, and then two days later to pick up the potion. For November's visit, though, I was surprised to receive two vials. One was the standard highest-quality wolfsbane, and the other was a restorative potion to take the morning after.

In December, when a group of other Wizards at school were talking about Caroling, I was all for it! Here in New England, we get just loads of snow, and it can get really cold. Still, it sounded like a lot of fun, and honestly, I've got the best voice in the bunch. Someone had to carry the tune.

They were going around town, both Muggle and Wizarding. The thing that's so brilliant about Salem is that they're all mixed up like that. Muggle and Wizarding homes right next to each other.

We were going down the street where Mr. Princeton lived, so I suggested to them all that we go and sing for him, too. They said I was barmy, and that they were all going back to the campus to drink some sort of hot alcoholic drinks, but I thought I wanted to do something nice for this lonely old guy, so I went on.

By the time I'd finished the first two songs, it had gotten so late and so cold, and the snow was so thick, my voice faltered. Of course, since there were Muggles living next door, it wasn't like I could just cast a warming charm.

I guess he could tell the difference, because a few minutes into my third song, he came out of his house, grabbed my scarf and pulled me inside.

"Stay," he demanded in a low, raspy whisper.

Of course, I just froze there on his welcome mat. Well, not actually a welcome mat. It was more of an "unwelcome mat" if anything. My feet ached from the cold, and the actual mat was thin, hard, and as black as my boots.

Actually, as I looked around the place, black seemed to be the color of choice for the décor. I didn't have much time to look around, though, before Mr. Princeton came back. He had a cup of something that was steaming - either from the heat, or because it was a potion. I didn't really care at that point, I was just glad to be in from the cold and wind.

Now that I think about it, it was kind of stupid of me to stay so long out in the cold like that. One or two songs would have sufficed. Bah, I'll just blame kismet. I was meant to freeze so he'd let me in.

And snap his fingers at me. And then point to a chair that, I have to tell you, could have done with a cushioning charm or seven.

"You are frostbitten," he whispered again. Now, I hadn't ever heard him speak before, and at the time I didn't know why he wasn't talking in a normal voice. Either way, I think the harsh, gravelly whisper was pretty effective in the end, as it had my toes curling and blood rushing to my head.

Of course, I wasn't nearly as shocked as I was when he set the mug down on the table across the room, positioned a chair in front of me, and roughly took my hand between his.

Now, I'm no stranger to pain. Being a half-werewolf, I go through a bit of a transformation every moon, and it does hurt like hell. Plus there was the time I was hit in the shoulder with the bludger in third year. But to be honest, I would rather go through those again than have to endure the pins and needles stabbing into my hands as he brought the blood back into my fingers.

"You are an idiot."

I chuckled and told him it wasn't the first time someone told me that.

"If you own a pair of mittens, I strongly suggest using them. If you do not own them, you will purchase a pair for yourself."

No "ifs", "ands" or "buts." No options. I smiled. "I'll do it in the morning."

After my hands were sufficiently re-animated (felt like I'd stuck them in boiling water), he silently Accio'd the steaming mug from the other table. Now, I'd seen wandless magic before, but wordless, wandless magic was really something special. And I think I said something to that effect.

I also think that was probably the day I fell in love with him.

Yeah, it's sappy, and it's pretty lame of me to even tell you that bit, but seriously, if I'm going to tell this story, that's an important part.

Not that I had stars in my eyes or anything. No, he was this older guy with a large hooked nose, stringy hair that was partially gray, and his fingers were obviously used to brewing some pretty noxious potions.

Still, there was something about the way he glared as if his look could make my heart explode. Well, until I realized he was glaring at me because I hadn't yet drunk that potion he gave me.

And when I did drink it, I think I fell even more. It was warm and soft, and as soon as it was inside of me, I could feel all of the chill melt away. The pain from the frostbite in my hands and feet also faded.

So, I felt really good. So good, in fact, that I woke up sitting in the same chair the next morning. There was a note pinned to my shirt written in Mr. Princeton's immaculate handwriting stating that he had set the wards to allow me access to the kitchen, the bathroom, and to let me out the door.

Very considerate of him, actually. First, letting me sleep there, and then when I went into the kitchen (after relieving myself and washing up a bit), I found he'd made me breakfast, as well. Okay, so it was dry toast and a single boiled egg, but still - better than a kick in the pants.

Now, it being winter break and all, I had a bit of a situation. Here I was, falling for this old guy who was brewing my potions. I mean, he was old enough to be Dad's father, for Merlin's sake. And on top of that, I was left with another three weeks of nothing but time on my hands and one more full moon.

As we would say back in England, Bollocksed!

Almost every day I would find excuses to go and visit the man. The first, and I don't mind admitting the lamest, excuse was to show him the new mittens I'd purchased and offer him a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread in exchange for the lovely breakfast. Yeah, it was totally unromantic and made me look like a complete wanker, but still, it was better than not doing anything at all for him.

A couple days later, I went to put in my monthly order for the wolfsbane, and also bring him a bottle of wine. No, he didn't invite me in that time, nor did he the time before, but at least when I placed my order, he gave me what I like to think of as a smile. I mean, yeah, I'd been going to see him every month since August, and he could have just figured out that I'd be there five days before the full moon, but I needed my excuse to see him again, right?

Then, on the day I picked up the potion, he gave me two other vials with it. One was the restorative he'd given me the month before, and the other had a tag on it instructing me that only a complete imbecile would consume the potion, and it would best be mixed in with laundry powder to wash my mittens, socks, outerwear, and blankets.

Let me tell you, I have never felt so warm and snug in my own clothes before.

I'll just jump forward a few days to the 22nd.

I was on my way to his house when I actually saw him out in town. I know! It was so strange. That man never left the house, and yet there he was, walking out of the apothecary's shop. Well, to the Muggles, it was a Pharmacy, but we know better, don't we?

He didn't look well. That was the first thing I noticed. The way he was walking, clutching his coat tight around him, was telling. And his face had color. It had a lot of color, actually. Which was rather usual for Mr. Princeton. As many times as I'd seen him, he was always as pale as a man could be without bleaching his skin with some sort of glamour charm.

And if there was one thing I was sure of, it was that Mr. Princeton did not use glamour charms.

Now, I know that he probably didn't want help, but it wasn't as if I could just leave him like that, all feverish and everything, to go home on his own.

He didn't stop me when I took the bag from him and helped by buttoning up his coat the rest of the way and casting a simple sticking charm to keep his scarf in place.

When we got there, he didn't say anything about me following him inside. I helped him put away the things in the bag and settled him onto his sofa.

That's when everything got weird. He rasped out some instructions for me to mix a couple of his powdered potions in with hot water. When I brought the mug out to him, he'd removed his outer vestments and was sitting there wearing only his black trousers and a white shirt.

I handed him the drink, and wrapped a blanket around him. "You ought to keep warm," I said softly. And somehow, from somewhere inside of me, I mustered the courage to actually tuck a few loose strands of his hair behind his ear. Let me tell you, when he let out that long breath, I was half tempted to just lean forward and kiss him right then and there, sickness be damned!

But I didn't. He let me pet back his hair a little and then whispered, "I need to sleep," so I helped him to his bed. The bedroom reminded me of my room at Hogwarts, only with just the one bed, and mostly green and brown linens and décor.

I guess that was when I ought to have owled dad and told him about Mr. Princeton. It would have make things a whole lot easier now if I had.

As it was, I slept on the sofa, my face buried in his coat. Oh, yeah, that smelled good. I can only describe my dreams as being of the sweetest kind, and the sort that compelled me to make a bee-line for the bathroom first thing when I woke the next morning.

For the sake of all the female readers out there, I'll just say it is not the most comfortable thing to navigate a dark room, wearing tight denim jeans while sporting an impressive erection. The friction alone threatened my sanity.

Of course, to make matters worse – or better, depending on your point of view - he was there in the bathroom. I stood in awe for a few moments, watching him brush his teeth – shirtless, bending down over the sink. I think it was probably the most wonderful thing I'd ever seen. He looked a lot better. As if he'd recovered completely overnight.

When he looked up at me and saw me standing there, holding my groin, I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. "You need to use the toilet," he whispered, turning back to the sink.

I did, but I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to relieve myself that way while he was there. Of course, what could I do? The bathroom is small in that house, and I actually brushed past him.

That's when it happened. It was the most wonderful thing, and took me completely by surprise. One moment I was trying my best to hide the fact that I could have really done for a good wank in the shower, and the next moment, there he was looking down into my face, pressing me up against the wall between the two towel hooks.

"I need to thank you for helping me," he whispered.

All I could do was offer him a silly grin and shake my head.

"What is it that you want, Theodore Lupin?"

Okay, yeah, that took me by surprise. I hadn't told him my name. And I suppose that ought to have clued me in to the fact that he might have known dad. Well, I mean, he knew my father, and I could assume at that point that he knew my mother, as well. So, it only made sense that he'd know dad, as well.

The question still hung in the air, though. It took me a few moments to figure out how to answer him. "I want…"

"You're very brave," he sighed as he slid one hand down to my waist. "You were in Gryffindor? No, perhaps not. I'm thinking Hufflepuff." By the time he finished speaking, his mouth was down close to my neck.

"Or perhaps…"

"Ravenclaw." I wasn't even sure if my voice would work when I breathed it out.

"Your father was in Gryffindor, He tried to kill me."

Now, when he said that, I wasn't sure what to do. I mean, it was absolutely possible that my father had tried to kill someone. And considering what this man knew about me, I had a feeling he might be telling me the truth. But then the next thing he said surprised me even more.

"I eventually forgave him."

Needless to say, I was pretty much frozen there on the spot. Mr. Princeton pressed his leg against my groin and slowly began rubbing it up and down. I think that was when I told him how I felt. I'm not entirely sure, but when I think back on all of what happened, I want to say that in throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my mouth to his ear, I whispered back to him that I was not my father and I'd somehow fallen in love with him.

Or something like that. Maybe I just moaned and rubbed up against him.

Either way, he called me a randy whelp and then kissed me.

And Oh, God, what a kiss. What that man lacked in traditional good looks, he certainly made up for with his tongue and lips. Especially when he finally abandoned my mouth and began working his way down my neck.

Randy whelp that I was, while he was working down my body, I was actively clearing a path for him – first in shrugging out of my shirt, and then unbuttoning my trousers.

When he sought out my hand and brought it to the front of his own trousers, I kind of took it as an invitation.

Now, I am, by no means, an expert on other men's cocks, but in just comparing his to mine, I was rather amazed at how different it was. It was thicker, and had this wicked curve to it.

"Get in the shower," he rasped. With a wave of his hand, he started the water running.

"How do you do that?" I asked. Wordless, wandless magic is so bloody wicked cool! And even now, thinking that my lover has that talent makes me immensely happy.

By the time I pulled the shower curtain aside, he'd banished our clothes. Lucky for me I'd kept myself in decent shape doing all those quidditch drills with dad and the other guys at Uni. 'Cause I had this amazingly built body to show off.

Not that I think he really cared. Not if pushing me up against the shower stall to kiss me all over without even blinking an eye was a good indication. He pretty much stopped talking for a while at that point. That is to say, he went silent. Not that I would have heard anything over the rushing of the shower, but soon enough, his mouth was far too busy taking care of my not-so-little morning problem for me.

Hey, considering I was already hard when I walked into the bathroom, I think the fact that I lasted a good three minutes while he sucked me off is pretty darn good. Especially since he had this way of flicking his tongue across the crown of my cock every time he pulled back. Fuck, but that was good.

I'm ashamed to say that when it was my turn to return the favor, I wasn't quite as talented. Although he seemed to have no problems with the whole act, I know I was lacking somewhat in technique. It felt so good, though. I don't know if it was the fact that I was finally, once again, intimate with another man, or if it was because I had already fallen in love with Steven.

Either way, I'd never felt so at home and so right with anyone before.

He didn't allow himself to come in my mouth, though. He was close (although if you'd ask him now, he would deny it completely), but instead of letting himself go, he pulled me up, kissed me deeply, and then turned me around and put my hands up against the wall.

I was going to be fucked. Literally. Steven was pressing up against me, sliding his hand between my cheeks and preparing me for something much larger and deliciously curved just like his finger, actually.

"I will not allow you to leave me," he whispered into my ear as he pressed one finger inside of me. And just when had he slicked it up with the oil? I have no idea. He still won't tell me, he just does that stupid grinning thing that he knows I love.

I digress again, and well, of course I wouldn't leave! Here I was naked, pushing back on his finger, trying desperately to keep my hair one consistent color and consciously attempting to loosen myself up for him. I'm not sure I told him that, though. I think I just groaned and pressed my head against my arm on the shower wall.

When he entered me, I'm sure I saw stars. Don't get me wrong now. It's not like I was a virgin at the time, and his was not the largest cock that had ever been stuffed inside me. But the way he whispered in my ear, and the way his hands wrapped around my waist as it he never wanted to let me go, that's what got me.

People always talk about how you just know it when you find that one person who you're meant to be with for the rest of your life. I'm sure I didn't believe it until that moment when Steven pushed inside of me, wrapped his arms around me and then just stopped there, holding me, standing still as the water from the shower raged on.

I wasn't sure anything could get any better until he started moving. It's that curve he has in his cock. I swear on Merlin's grave that it was created very deliberately with the sole purpose of hitting my most sensitive spots every single fucking time he pushed in again. I think the noises I was making were driving him closer, too, 'cause it didn't take long before I felt him stiffen (ha ha), and cling tighter to me.

And here we are, two years later. I'm still taking classes, although I've sped through another full year and I'm looking forward to graduation next spring. Things have been going great with Mr. Princeton (he likes it when I call him that, although after a bit of research, I learned his real name, and sometimes I call him by it in bed), and last year, he hinted at me moving in with him enough that I finally took him up on the offer.

Dad's coming for winter hols this year, though. Apparently, he and Ginny have separated, she's taking the kids off skiing or something, and he's bringing this old friend of his, Drake.

I don't know how to tell him about Steven. I'm pretty sure he'll want to floo over as soon as they arrive stateside, but Mr. Princeton doesn't like strangers in his house.

And judging from his reaction when I mentioned that my dad wanted to come and visit, he's even more unsure about that.

Still, deep down, I'm confident he'll let them visit. After all, he's pretty much as madly and deeply in love with me as I am with him. Although don't ever mention that I said that, okay? Don't want to start a row, you know?


End file.
